No Competition

By Arnold's Love & Pointy Objects

Chapter Ten: "The Shock of all Shockers"

Days later I'm still fuming.

I'm just seriously still so angry at little Miss Helga G. Pataki. Where she gets off judging me and my choices is beyond me. So yah, I'm irrationally irritated with her for saying I'm just a shallow guy who only dates dummies. Who is she to judge whom I choose to date? What makes her such an expert? I don't see her running around dating people and in the process becoming an authority on dating choices.

I mean besides giggling at that yuppie boy the other day outside the library, I've never seen her talk to guys unless it involved the words "lame brain, sap or chump" and honestly, that doesn't sound like a relationship expert to me. To further prove my point, she's never dated anyone unless you count Stinky Peterson in 4th grade. Or that time, which also happens to be in 4th grade, when she pretended we were dating so we could make Lila jealous. Which, in retrospect, was insanity on my part-what was I even thinking pretending to date Helga...who was even going to buy that? Me and Helga together? Psshh. And let's be honest, that charade only led to more heartache at the hands of Lila Sawyer.

Lila.

I feel myself cringe at the thought of Lila. A bad taste creeping into my mouth, like when you eat a Snickers bar with a bad peanut in it. Oh, what that girl put me through in elementary school. And sadly, just one in a short line of girls I fell for and was misused by over the years. So it's made me a little courser around the edges. A little less Mr. Nice-guy. Because let's face it, Mr. Nice-guys always, and I mean always, wind up getting hurt. I'm still the Arnold who worries about others and tries to always do the right thing, but at least now I can be a bit of a self-advocate and pay attention to what others might be up to and hopefully protect myself in the process-albeit making mistakes along the way. But I always try to fix them, don't I?

So anyway my point is, Helga Pataki can keep her inexperienced opinions to herself. I'm not going to give her the time of day. I know what I'm doing in my relationships. I'm not going to listen to a word she says about me and Ami or any other girl I might date in the future. I'm just gonna let it roll over me like the waves of the ocean.

Except...that's a complete lie. I have been stewing about what she said for days now. There's no ignoring going on here. Not to say I haven't tried. I have, oh how I have tried! I'm not even sure why it's bothering me so much. Why is some little Helga Pataki comment staying at the forefront of my mind like an itch you can't scratch, or...a spit ball you can't get out of your hair? I should just forget it and move on, right?

Except that maybe the problem is that she's on to something. Maybe she's right and I do only go for dummies. Actually I kind of know that in the past that's maybe, possibly, slightly, a tad bit true.

I just don't like to be called on the carpet. Who does, am I right? I don't like being compared to the throngs of shallow guys swaggering around the school like they're all bad, but actually they're just insecure jerks. I haven't been looking for a serious relationship the past few years, I'll just admit it. But the thing is I have my reasons for that. And for now, I think that's okay.

And besides all that, Ami isn't really dumb. I know she isn't. I know full well she just acts dumb and has given up on herself because she's never heard any positive feedback in her life. Her dad is kind of a blowhard and spends most of his time verbally abusing her. And in the past few days I've proven myself almost 100% right as I've spent time trying to listen to Gerald's veiled advice and give her a better chance and not judge her like everyone else in the school and in her life seem to.

"Hey, Arnold! Hey, Arnold," a feminine voice is saying, pulling me out of my deep thoughts. It's Ami, dressed in a soft blue top and peering curiously into my face. "Arnold?"

Shaking my head to clear it and bring me back to the present I smile at her. "Hey, Ami. What's up?"

She giggles and pats me on the cheek softly. "You were like totally spacing out just now. Like totally!"

I shrug and rub the back of my neck awkwardly. "Sorry, I was thinking about my history project. It's-" I start to tell her about it, but hold back realizing she probably won't be interested. "How's your day going?"

She starts to speak and then a strange look comes over her face, one I can't quite place, before she takes a deep breath and her eyes widen a tad. "History, huh? That's uh...um...very...interesting. Do you like...history?" her voice squeaks slightly, almost like she's nervous.

That's a new one. Ami nervous? Miss confident in her beauty, flirty, fit, tan Ami? Nah, there's no way. But I have to say I'm surprised she's asking me about history. I mean I already knew she hates math and science, so I've only surmised she hates history too. In fact, there wouldn't be anything strange about that, lots of people find history boring. But I find it anything but boring. The idea of the past and how much it shapes the future is just amazing. I love hearing of those that have gone before and their stories. Maybe I like it because I grew up being raised by my grandparents, so many generations older then me that, always sharing stories of how it was and the importance of knowing those things.

"Arnold?" her voice breaks into my thoughts again. "You there?"

"Yah, sorry. I guess I got caught up thinking again." I look back down at her face and see a slight frown and possibly the look of disappointment painted across it. "You okay?" I inquire, suddenly worried about her. "Did something happen?"

She quickly shakes her head and pastes on a smile. "Nope. Everything's dandy. You just like keep zoning out. You sure you're ok?" She puts a soft hand to me cheek as she examines me, checking for signs of illness or something.

I shrug dismissively. "Yah, I think I'm just tired. I didn't sleep well last night."

I'm too mad at a certain sarcastic, insulting blonde with an every moving pink bow to sleep. Speaking of her pink bow...it's amazing how many different ways that girl can think of to wear it. Headband, scarf, necktie, bracelet...

"Oh, well, I'm sorry, Arnold," Ami says, brushing a piece of my hair out of my face and getting my attention once more. "So, you were going to tell me whether or not you like history." She smiles at me genuinely, and actually looks interested in whatever my answer will be.

My eyes widen slightly as I look at her and I try to hide my surprise. "Well, yes, actually. I don't think anyone really knows this, but it's actually my favorite subject," I answer, happy that she seems genuinely interested in what I have to say.

She looks at me with a smile like no other she's ever given me. Pure happiness. Nothing fake. Nothing held back. "Well, that's very cool, Arnold." She pauses as if thinking deeply for a minute and then asks, "so, um...why is it your favorite subject?"

Where to begin? I look down at her, her eager face lit up as she looks up at me. "Uh, well, it intrigues me because it's about real people and their real choices and stories. Some of them were great and some of them were anything but great, but there are always lessons to be learned either way. And it's the same world and yet different then it is now and sometimes my mind is so caught up in it, even though it's unfathomable that that many people have lived, loved, and died and that they each had an individual story. People just like us, living and breathing and making choices that still effect us today. It's amazing to read a story of someone in the past and to find this intimate connection with them today."

I pause, afraid I'm boring Ami, but her eyes are still glowing and fixed on me, actually looking entirely enthralled by what I'm saying. So I return her cute smile and I keep going.

"I remember once a few years ago I went to my great Aunt Mitzi's wedding, and she had me wear my great, great grandfather's suit. And I stood there, after putting it on and stared into the mirror, because here I was wearing a suit that my grandfather wore when the civil war was being fought on our very own soil-brothers fighting brothers. And in that moment I had this personal link to a time in history and the people who lived through it. My great, great grandfather and I, separated by 150 years, but here I was sharing a moment with him. And suddenly I became so amazed by the whole idea that we can have so much in common with those who have been gone so long. And I've been even more intrigued by it ever sense."

"Wow, Arnold! That's actually pretty amazing!" Ami says suddenly clapping her hands together excitedly. "I didn't even know clothes could last 150 years! I love vintage wear!" she exclaims excitedly. "I once wore a 1950s dress for a school dance. It was so gorgeous! I wonder who wore it before me, back in the 1950s! I never thought about it like that before! It's so exciting!" She grabs my hand happily and squeezes it. "I never knew history was so interesting!"

I chuckle, noticing she hasn't let my hand go yet, but not minding. "Yes, it really is. To me at least," I add, modestly. "You heading to the cafeteria now? I have to go to the front office to pick up our shirts for debate team, but I can walk you part of the way."

She pauses for a second and then shakes her head. "Actually, I...um...like totally forgot something in my locker. I'll see you later, Arnold," she says squeezing my hand and giving me a quick peck on the cheek. "You can tell me more about history!" she exclaims before running off down the hall.

I watch her disappearing figure, chuckling, but then I immediately frown. Who the heck does Helga think she is, calling Ami a dummy? I angrily stuff my hands in my pocket, spinning on my heels to head towards the office. Obviously Ami's anything but dumb. And I was going to march right over to the library next and tell her just that.

Bu suddenly I'm jarred out of my livid thoughts as I collide right into someone. I roll my eyes expecting to see Helga-because honestly we crash into each other about once a week. I'm starting to think it's some kind of secret competition she has to see how many times she can knock me on my butt or something.

I reach up to rub my aching head, but stop immediately when I realize it isn't Helga I've run into.

It's Phoebe Heyerdahl.

Her eyes go wide as she spots me and she starts wringing her hands. Quickly I jump to my feet and offer my hand to help her up. Phoebe hasn't grown all that much since we were kids, staying tiny and petite. So I have to really crane my neck to look her in the face.

"Hi, Phoebe," I greet with my most friendly smile.

"Uh, hi, Arnold," she says shyly. "I haven't seen you since that best friend competition you had with Helga a while back. How are you fairing?"

Small talk. Right. Because we hardly talk now and there's that whole awkward event in our shared past. "Great," I force out cheerfully. "You? What are you doing in the office?" I inquire. As if I can't make this situation any more awkward I gesture around the room as if she can't see with her own eyes that we are both in the front office.

"Oh, um, well, I'm just acquiring an accolade for perfect attendance," she smiles proudly, hugging the certificate to her chest.

Always the same ol' Phoebe. I couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, congratulations. I'll bet you have a massive collection of those by now."

She giggles softly to herself and then remembers who she's talking to. "Well, Arnold, it was very pleasant catching up with you again, but I really must be going now." She doesn't leave, but politely waits for my response.

"Right. Yah. Okay." I rub the back of my neck nervously, before running a hand through my hair. "I'll, uh, see you around then."

With a small smile in response she waves and heads out of the office. Quickly I pick up the box of debate team t-shirts so I can store them in my locker until our meeting later in the day. It's too bad all my encounters with Phoebe have to be so awkward. But considering what had happened a few years ago and Phoebe's shy, concealed nature, I suppose it all makes sense.

That night hadn't started out so strange. But like things always do, it had quickly taken an abrupt, highly unexpected, disastrous turn. Before I knew what had happened, I found myself searching out Phoebe in hopes the mend the situation. I found her, hiding in a corner, the lights of the Cheese Festival casting colors and shadows on her tear stained cheeks.

"Phoebe?" I asked hesitantly, knowing I needed to help her and comfort her, but not really knowing how I should go about doing it. I just knew it was up to me to fix this whole mess.

"Go away, Arnold. Please," her voice broke, filled with immense heartache and she angrily wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

But I stood strong and ignored her request, knowing no one else was going to help her. Quietly, but determinedly, I sat next to her. "Phoebe. Are you ok?" I probbed turning to peer into her face. I knew she wasn't, but it seemed as good of an ice breaker as any. "Do you want to talk about it? Maybe I can help."

She stared at me as if in shock. "Arnold, you were there! You were a part of the whole thing!" she exclaimed. "I don't want to think about it, let alone discuss it! In fact, I just want to go home and hide for the rest of my entire existence!" With that she burst into tears and attempted to conceal her sobs with her hands.

I put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Yes, Phoebe, I was there, but I also think it's going to be ok." I gave her a warm, hopefully reassuring smile. "Really, it's going to be ok. I promise."

She shook her head in frustration. "How can you say that?" she cried out. "It was so embarrassing. I can't go back out there...with HIM...with all of them...looking at me and watching and...and waiting!"

"Why not? Don't you want to know how he feels about you?" I probed, kindly.

Phoebe put her hands up to ward off my question. "Why would I want to?" she exclaimed, trying to sound nonchalant, but her desperate, sad eyes said otherwise.

"Well, you like him don't you?" I asked, smiling softly at her, hoping she knew she could trust me and speak the truth.

She paused for a long time...looking up at the Ferris wheel; the lights and colors of the fair dancing on her face like a kaleidoscope. Her eyes thoughtful, as she stared off in the distance, deciding what to do.

Finally she turned to me and with a resolute look replied. "No. no. I don't. We're just friends," she stated, sniffling softly.

"Phoebe." I looked at her meaningfully.

She threw up her hands then in frustration. "Fine, Arnold, yes! I really like Gerald. Like REALLY like him," she emphasized. "But now he will just think I'm wholly crazy?"

"No, he won't Phoebe, I promise." I grinned at her. "He already knew your best friend was crazy. Tonight didn't change anything."

Helga. Always saying and doing things, likely without thinking. I look up at the clock in the old room we use for speech and debate meetings where I was stashing the shirts for later. There's still a good few minutes left of lunch. If I hurry I can probably get to the library while she was is TA-ing and still have time to tell her just how smart Ami actually is, that'll teach her. I've had just about enough of all this "Arnold only date dummies" crap.

Arriving at the library I first look over at the checkout counter. No one is there except the ancient librarian peering over her antique reading glasses to read a book in her hands. The place is hushed and quiet, I guess since it's lunch and no classes are in here working on projects and research papers. I let out an annoyed puff of breath and head over to the poetry section thinking maybe Helga is reading poetry like I've caught her doing before.

But no dice.

So I go over to the old classics section...thinking maybe she's perusing Jane Austen or Charlotte Bronte or something. Again she's not there. I did find a couple making out in the isle much to my chagrined, in case you were wondering.

I'm just about to give up, thinking maybe she skipped out on her TA job (it's been known to happen regularly), when a flash of pink catches my eye outside the library window. Maybe she stepped outside for a break or something. Heading over I noticed the dark ominous clouds in the sky. Great. It's probably going to rain and I have an outdoor PE class later. Joy.

Searching out the window I look for the offending pink, when I feel my eyes narrow and a deep breath pause in my chest.

Because what I see out that window is more surprising then a stormy rooftop confession of love.

Which is saying a lot, considering that was about the biggest surprise of my young life. In fact, I'll admit it, I'm still recovering seven years later.

But this...I'm not sure I'll ever recover from this. What I see out the library window is almost as shocking as seeing Helga kissing a boy.

A/N:

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